FROM IPPOLITO PINDEMONTE.
THE POET’S LAST DWELLING.
Oh! in this hallowed peace let me descend
To the dark chambers of the silent tomb!
And step by step, at length the journey end
Of this frail life—so dear—so fraught with gloom.
The parted day renewing beams attend;
But never from its long and quiet home
This dust shall rise, to gaze on mead or isle
With flowers bedecked, or sunset’s golden smile.